


Watcher

by Windian



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Adolescence, F/F, First Crush, Pre-Canon, Tales of Femslash Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 23:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15302412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: "Have you heard it said that fighting is just another form of dancing?" the Major asks.In Yulia City, Tear begins her training.





	Watcher

The bell for the sixth hour tolls across Yulia City. In your home in the Qliphoth, the din of the cathedral bells are the only measure of time. There is no night, nor no day here. Perhaps, no time either. Only Yulia Jue's seals protect from you a world of subterranean mud and miasma. Rare visitors remark on its desolation, but having lived here all of your life, you sometimes catch a beauty in its fragility, in the lights from the cathedral that cut an ethereal glow through the clouds of miasma. Even in a land surrounded by nothing but poison and death, flowers still grow.

You can't be late for your training with the Major. You button your uniform, frowning in dismay at how tight the material has grown around your bust. Everyone remarks on how grown-up you've become this year, but it's as though it happened overnight, while you weren't looking. As a child you were slim and nimble; now your body feels bulky and clumsy, a hand-me-down sweater you're told you'll grow into. The apprentice Watchers you've known since you were young stare when they don't think you're looking. It's odd. Unnerving. Your childhood shyness holds forth once more, tightening the muscles in your throat. You grow out your fringe, and hide behind your hair.

Van had remarked on it, on one of his increasingly rare visits from the Outer Lands. Mouth quirked up in a smile.

“What are you hiding from, Mystearica?”

You'd had no reply for him. He'd turned his attention to the two bags of flour on your desk. You'd coloured.

“Baking something?”

“Oh, that's. Nothing. They're from Gabriel. He thinks it's funny.”

“How so?”

“He said he had no flowers to give me, so. Flour and flour. Makes flowers apparently.”

You'd been so embarrassed you hadn't known what to do but stand and stare at Gabriel. Just the thought made you want to bury your head in your pillow.

“I see. You really are growing up.”

You crossed your arms against your breast. Fidgeted. “I guess.”

“Perhaps it really is time to start your training,” Van said. “This world is a dangerous place, and it's only going to become more so.”

 

Legretta came from Daath to oversee your training personally. Surrounded by your fellow Watchers, who spent their lives studying arcane symbols and staring dreamily into stones, her disposition was a shock. Taciturn, stoic, even cold, with a voice that never wavered. Patient with mistakes, she had no tolerance for foolishness.

To your own surprise, you come to find you admire her a great deal.

“You've come a good way, Tear. Your use of fonic artes has improved markedly. You have a talent for it.”

Receiving the Major's praise feels like soaking up the sun. A soldier should remain stoic, but you can't help but smile, just a little.

“Thank you, Major.”

Sometimes you like to imagine you hear a fond note in Major Legretta's voice, too.

“However, you're still too stiff, Tear. Your body is an instrument. And right now, it's a blunt instrument.”

Your smile falls. Maybe not. “I- I see. Please, tell me what I can do to improve, Major.”

“Have you ever heard it said that fighting is just another form of dancing?”

“I-- no.”

“Do you dance, Tear?”

You shake your head.

“I'm surprised. You're so musically inclined. Well, no matter. We'll go through the usual drills again. Eventually, they'll become natural to your body.”

“Yes Ma'am!”

 

Much later, as you undress for bed, you think about Major Legretta, and dancing. There's a reason she's spoken of as _Legretta the Quick_. You think of her swift but fierce movements, how you'd once watched her take down five Oracle knights-in-training untouched. In a way, it seemed a kind of dance.

Your body remembers. Legretta had led you through your stances, adjusting you when you slipped out of line, gently moving you back into the correct position. You thumb your wrist, over the place the Major had touched, the presence of her skin a memory printed into your flesh. If your body truly was an instrument, every string would have been thrumming with music.

 

When Legretta next visits, she brings flowers. Bright yellow marigolds, fresh from the fields of the Outer Lands. Your heart rises to your throat.

“Major--”

“Here, Tear. A gift from your brother. He said you might prefer these on your desk, although I didn't think to ask him what he meant.”

The elation in your chest sinks, but you accept the flowers.

“Thank you.”

“He's a good brother, isn't he?”

“Yes. He's always been good to me, ever since were we children.” You press the the flowers to your nose and breathe in the fragrance. You've never smelled anything like it. “Do you have any siblings, Major?”

Legretta goes quiet. You're sure you've overstepped.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked personal questions.”

“It's fine,” Major Legretta says. “I had a brother, but he passed away. Years ago now. It was written in the Score.”

Cutting through the Major's composure is a deep bitterness you've never heard from her before. Her jaw is stone, set into a firm line.

“I'm... I'm sorry. My father died when Hod fell. The Score predicted that, too.”

“Cruel, isn't it?” Legretta says, her voice soft, and a chill moves through you. It's the first time anyone's ever criticised the Score, the unbreakable cornerstone of your life.

“I... I've never thought about--”

“Why is it you wear your hair down like that, Tear?”

The sudden change in conversation jilts you out of your thoughts, and then thought leaves you entirely as the Major pushes your fringe back from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Better,” she says, and she's right, you know. No need to aide your enemies by giving them another blind spot.

“You must look at the world to see it clearly,” the Major says. “Don't ever look away.”

Your heart is beating a million miles a minute. You don't think you could look away from the Major even if you wanted to.

 

 


End file.
